eraphine’s Mask
Outside the secluded wing, Seraphine adjusted her cloak, the heavy fabric draping perfectly over her shoulders. Her fingers brushed against the crescent birthmark painted onto her cheek, the ink cool and smooth against her skin. Every detail of her appearance had been perfected, every motion rehearsed until instinctive, and every angle of her plan calculated with precision. The weight of the moment didn’t unnerve her; it thrilled her. This was her time.
The soft rustle of movement beside her broke her focus. Kael stood at her side, his posture rigid, his expression dark and conflicted. His presence grounded her, but she could feel the tension radiating off him like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
“Are you sure about this?” Kael asked, his voice low but strained. His eyes flicked toward the glowing light spilling from the windows of the packhouse.
Seraphine turned to him, her smile sharp and confident, cutting through his doubts like a blade. “This is our moment, Kael. If we wait, we lose everything.”
“And Isla?” he pressed, his voice tight, laced with something close to desperation.
“She’ll be fine,” Seraphine said dismissively, waving a hand as if the answer were obvious. “You’ll take her somewhere safe. Somewhere far from here.”
Kael’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he studied her. He didn’t trust her—not fully. But the thought of Isla away from Crimson Fang, away from the suffocating responsibilities of being Luna, kept him tethered to the plan. Seraphine’s promise dangled in his mind, a vision of Isla free from all of this. It was a lie he wanted to believe.
“She doesn’t want this life,” Seraphine continued, her tone softening slightly, but her words carried the same steely edge. “You’ve seen it yourself. She’s terrified, trapped. I’m doing her a favor.”
Kael’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hesitation palpable. “If anything happens to her—”
“Nothing will happen to her,” Seraphine interrupted, her sharp tone leaving no room for argument. “She’ll be out of Crimson Fang by the time they notice she’s gone.”
He didn’t respond, but his silence was answer enough. Seraphine knew she had him. He was loyal—to Isla, not her—but that loyalty was what made him predictable. Manipulable.
“Let’s move,” she commanded, her tone cold as steel. She didn’t wait for a response, slipping into the shadows with the kind of confidence that came from knowing the world would bend to her will. Kael followed, his footsteps heavy with reluctance, but he followed nonetheless.
The two moved silently as they approached the secluded wing, their footsteps muffled by the soft earth and the hum of distant music from the ball. The celebration continued without pause, oblivious to the deception unfolding just outside its glow.
The guards stationed at the entrance stood at attention as Seraphine approached. Their eyes scanned her briefly before they bowed their heads in deference, their expressions blank and obedient.
“My Luna,” one of them murmured, stepping aside to grant her passage.
Seraphine suppressed a smile, though her heart raced with triumph. To them, she was Isla—but confident, commanding, untouchable. The illusion was flawless.
Kael lingered just outside the guards’ line of sight, his body taut with tension. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something about this wasn’t right. His eyes darted to Seraphine’s painted crescent, to the way her chin tilted slightly higher than Isla’s, to the sharpness of her movements that lacked Isla’s softer hesitations. It was perfect, yes—but too perfect. A cold replica of the real thing.
“Stay here,” Seraphine hissed to Kael as she passed through the door. Her voice carried a note of finality, as though dismissing his presence entirely. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Kael clenched his fists, his stomach twisting. He wanted to stop her, to demand they leave now, but the pull of Isla’s freedom—her escape—kept him frozen. He stepped back into the shadows, waiting for his part of the plan to begin.
Inside, Seraphine’s steps were slow and deliberate, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor as she approached Isla’s chambers. The light spilling from beneath the door illuminated the hallway in a golden glow. Seraphine paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. There was no room for error now.
Her hand reached for the door handle, and she turned it slowly, her movements precise to ensure there wasn’t so much as a creak. The soft glow of the room spilled into the hallway as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her with a deliberate click.
Inside the chamber, Isla stood by the window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight. She had discarded her ceremonial cloak, the shimmering gown clinging to her form, and she seemed lost in thought, gazing out at the gardens below. The faint strains of music from the ball filtered in, muted but persistent, a reminder of the world she was expected to lead.
Seraphine took a step forward, her movements soundless, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of her sister. There was a fragility to Isla in that moment, an unguarded softness that Seraphine despised and envied in equal measure.
“You never belonged here,” Seraphine murmured under her breath, her voice too low for Isla to hear.
Her fingers brushed against the vial tucked into the folds of her gown, the cool glass reassuring her. This was the moment she had prepared for, rehearsed over and over in her mind until it was as natural as breathing. The crescent birthmark on her cheek itched faintly, a reminder of the part she was about to play.
Isla turned suddenly, sensing a presence behind her, and her eyes widened when she saw Seraphine standing there.
“Seraphine?” Isla’s voice was laced with confusion and alarm. “What are you doing here?”
Seraphine tilted her head, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “Oh, sister,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “I’ve come to save you.”
“Save me?” Isla repeated, her brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t see it, do you?” Seraphine said, taking a step closer. Her movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. “You’re a prisoner here, Isla. A pawn in their games. They’ve dressed you up, paraded you around, but you’ll never truly belong. You’re nothing more than a figurehead.”
Isla’s eyes narrowed, her confusion giving way to anger. “And what does that make you? You’re not here to help me. What are you really after, Seraphine?”
Seraphine’s smile hardened, her eyes flashing with something darker. “I’m here to take what’s mine.”
Before Isla could respond, Seraphine moved swiftly, the vial in her hand uncorked in one smooth motion. She lunged forward, pressing the cloth soaked in sedative against Isla’s mouth. Isla struggled, her hands clawing at Seraphine’s arm, her muffled cries filling the room. But the sedative worked quickly, and within moments, her movements slowed, her body going limp in Seraphine’s grasp.
Seraphine eased her sister onto the floor, her breath coming in quick, sharp bursts. She brushed a strand of hair from Isla’s face, her expression unreadable. “Don’t worry,” she murmured. “This isn’t goodbye. You’ll be fine… eventually.”
She stood, smoothing the fabric of her gown and adjusting the crescent mark on her cheek. The disguise was flawless. She stepped over Isla’s unconscious form, opening the door just enough to signal Kael.
He appeared moments later, his face pale as he took in the sight of Isla crumpled on the floor.
“What did you do?” he demanded, his voice low but sharp.
“What I had to,” Seraphine replied coldly. “Now, take her. Get her out of here.”
Kael hesitated, his eyes darting between Seraphine and Isla. “She’s not safe with you.”
“She’s safer with you,” Seraphine snapped. “Or do you want to waste more time questioning me?”
Kael bent down, lifting Isla into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breathing soft but steady. He glared at Seraphine, but she ignored him, turning back to the mirror to make the final adjustments to her appearance.
“You have your part to play, Kael,” Seraphine said, her voice devoid of emotion. “And I have mine.”
Without another word, Kael disappeared into the shadows, carrying Isla out of the chamber. Seraphine stared at her reflection, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. The image staring back at her wasn’t her own—it was Isla’s. Confident. Commanding. Untouchable.
This was her moment. Her triumph.
As the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway, Seraphine turned toward the door, her posture straightening, her expression softening into the perfect imitation of her sister’s gentle grace.
When the door opened, Draven stepped inside, his dark eyes immediately seeking hers. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his brow furrowing slightly, but he said nothing.
“Sorry to keep you waiting–” he said, his voice calm but laced with something she couldn’t quite place.
Seraphine replied smoothly, her voice carrying just the right hint of Isla’s softness. “I’m ready.”
Draven studied her for a moment longer, then nodded, extending his hand. Seraphine took it, her heart pounding as he guided her toward the hearth. The consummation rites had begun, and no one suspected a thing.
Not yet.
